


After Tonight

by seethesunshine



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seethesunshine/pseuds/seethesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night of drinking results in a one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Tonight

"All I’m saying," Camilla shrugged, "Is that I don’t find anything wrong with still being a virgin."

Her friends shook their heads in unison, staring at her in disbelief. She was 23, smart, pretty, friendly. There were many ways to describe her, _virgin_ , wasn’t one that would pop up once you saw her. She was tall, nearing 5’9” flat, with long raven hair that hung to her mid back. Her skin was naturally an olive shade, a big thanks to her Mediterranean ancestry, with big green eyes. She was personable, bright, even charming.

"You could so easily just rid yourself of that burden," her friend Michelle sighed, "There are so many guys here who would love to help you," she added, her eyes scanning the crowded bar.  
“I’m not going to sleep with just _anyone_ ,” Camilla hissed, “I swear, it’s like you guys think it’s a curse or something. It’s my decision.”  
“We all know who she’s saving herself for,” another friend interjected, “Long time brother’s best friend Chrissy poo.”

Camilla rolled her eyes; this was an ongoing thing. Her choice to stay a virgin into her mid-twenties had sparked when she was at college. She was by no means a prude, having had numerous boyfriends and flings. But, she was just never ready, nor comfortable enough with anyone to just give up something that she felt was so important. Her virginity was in a sense, to her, a gift that she’d be giving. She wanted it to be memorable, to be with someone she trusted. That just, if in case, it didn’t work out, she could look back at it and smile, knowing she did the right thing. And if it meant waiting for marriage, so be it.

"You guys always manage to make it such a big deal," she sighed, standing up and grabbing her purse.

“Oh relax,” Michelle laughed, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” she said, turning icily and walking away.

She groaned, _he’ll never look at you that way_ , she reminded herself, trekking the few short blocks to her flat. She was 23, occupying the lowest position at a Public Relations firm, making nearly pennies. And he, her brother Michael’s best friend, the object of her unknown affection for years on end, Chris was, well, in her mind, _everything_. He was gorgeous and successful and charming and not to mention famous.

They were friendly, seeing each other often as she grew up. Every time she’d see him her mind would wander into the darkest, dirtiest places she could imagine. _But you’re a virgin_ , she reminded herself, _Chris Evans would never look at a 23 year old virgin, working a dead end job._

"Camilla," she heard behind her, the deep husky voice registering quickly,

"Hold on, slow down!"

She turned around, a small smile spread across her lips, “Hey,” she dragged out, noticing his long dark curls and bright eyes, “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you at the pub,” he smiled, stepping closer to her, “You left before I got the chance to come over and say hi. You seemed a little…frazzled?” He offered.

“Just tired,” she lied, “Heading home.”

“Oh,” he said softly, “Was going to buy you a drink, it’s been a while.”

“I saw you at Michael’s wedding last month,” she laughed, her short summer dress seeming a little _too_ short as his eyes scanned her shamelessly.

“That doesn’t count,” he smiled, his eyes dropping to take in the cleavage the dress offered.

“Well,” Camilla stammered, looking around, “I still have half a cheap bottle of whiskey left if you want to come over.”

She blinked; the urge to die creeping up on her. _Where the hell did that come from?_ She thought. It could have been the first few rounds of drinks finally setting in, but Camilla felt confident. He made a face, a smile spreading across his lips as he nodded, following her around the block and through a set of doors, up 4 flights of stairs, to her front door.

"I must warn you," she started, pushing the door open, "It’s not much."

He laughed, “I’m sure it’s more than enough.”

She held the door open, allowing him the small entry way to her barely existing flat. His side brushed up against her, his fingers brushing against her exposed thigh. Her breath caught, a sound she was convinced he heard, and for a second, just a tiny split second, she swore she saw a glint of _something_ in his eyes. She shook her head, shutting the door as he surveyed the small space.

Brushing past him, she moved into the kitchen, ruffling through the pantry for the bottle of whiskey she was sure she had. He leaned on the wall, his hands in his trouser pockets, watching her as she stood on the toes of her heels, her dress riding up. His lips twitched as his eyes scanned her barely clothed body; she was gorgeous.

He had known her since she was a child, 3 or 4, running around naked and wreaking havoc. She was the only girl in a family of 5 boys, the youngest of them all, coming as a surprise. Her parents worshiped her; her brothers would kill for her. He knew he shouldn’t be there, he knew that the alcohol and the heat and her _barely_ there dress wouldn’t result in anything good, not in the end.

She turned around, hair spilling everywhere, clutching an almost empty bottle of Evan Williams Bourbon and two small glasses. She shrugged, walking past him and towards the matchbox sized living room, plopping down on her rattled couch with a thud.

“I know it’s cheap but it really gets the job done,” she muttered, kicking her heels off and sitting Indian style, “Are you just going to stand there?”

He was shocked by the sudden confidence, knowing her as usually mum around him, “What do you know about whiskey?” He asked, sitting beside her.

She shrugged, “I don’t,” she admitted, uncapping the bottle and filling the glasses, “But this smells almost floral and it goes down smooth and it’s cheaper than a meal down at the bar.”

He laughed, a quiet sound that made the blush in her cheeks apparent, “Wouldn’t have pegged you as a whiskey girl.”

“You wouldn’t peg me as a lot of things,” Camilla sighed, sipping her drink.

Chris watched her as the whiskey slipped down her throat, her head thrown back, her long neck exposed. She was exotic to him; her creamy olive skin sticking out so obviously beneath her little black dress. She was calm and carefree and her cheeks were flushed and he wanted to just _touch_ every bit of her. He sipped his drink, noting that it was in fact pretty decent for a low shelf brand, wondering what happened to the rest of the bottle, wondering how many other guys sat in his position.

He had never seen her away from friends or family. He didn’t know what she was like in her own home, what she was like on her own. She’d always been attractive, from when she was barely legal to the times he’d see her at the bars, staying out late and skipping class the next day. She was young and she was gorgeous but she was also very, very _dangerous_.

“What’s with the fancy clothes?” She pointed, taking in his black trousers, and his half unbuttoned white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and exposing his bare chest.

“I was at a meeting earlier,” he nodded, watching her run her hand through her hair, wanting to replace it with his own.

She nodded, refilling her glass and bringing it to her lips. Their eyes locked over the rim of her glass, and he watched her as she took a long sip, lowering the glass and licking her lips. Did she know what she was doing? Was it intentional or completely innocent? Should he be thinking about how her lips taste? He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he watched her untangle her long legs and slide closer to him, their knees touching.

“Chris,” she said quietly, green eyes big and questioning, “What are you doing here?”

“Cammie,” he reasoned, the nickname sliding off his tongue, “Why did you invite me here?”

She shrugged, “Because you’re too charming to turn down,” she reasoned, “And so…gorgeous.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, her eyes trailing his neck. He sat back, his head still turned to her. He _knew_ why he was there and she _knew_ why she wanted him there. All the years of her pent up attraction towards him finally putting her in the right place and the right time and she couldn’t help but _wish_ he’d notice. But he did, he always noticed; he would push it off as her innocence, but in the back of his mind he knew there was nothing more he’d like than to kiss and touch every inch of her skin.

“We can get in a lot of trouble for this,” he finally spoke.

She turned to him, one leg planted on the ground the other folded beneath her, “That’s okay,” she nodded, his eyes trailing her exposed thighs, “I like trouble.”

“Camilla,” he warned, her well manicure finger sliding up and down his leg, “I’m a decade older than you.”

She nodded, “I don’t mind.”

His eyebrows raised as her fingers worked their way higher, past the straining muscles in his thigh, up his toned abs, to opening in his shirt, exposing his chest. Running her fingers over the smooth skin, she felt her body flush, his heart rate speeding up. His lips slightly parted, watching her as she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. One at a time, agonizingly slow, her nails scraping his skin as she worked her way down. Untucking his shirt, it fell open, her hand now pressed against his bare flesh, tracing the lines of his toned body, their eyes glued to each other.  Silently, her hand trailed down his waist, over his growing erection, rubbing through the fabric of his trousers, earning a deep exhale from him, his eyes fluttering closed. She couldn’t help but grin, standing up and straddling him, sinking deeper into the worn leather of the couch.

She sat in his lap, her mind hazy with desire and alcohol. _What the hell was she doing?_ She rolled her hips into his, lowering her head and placing barely there kisses on his exposed neck, down his chest, and back up to his jaw. He watched her, mesmerized by her actions, his mind screaming at him to stop. She took a deep breath, the feel of his erection beneath her aiding the pooling sensation in between her thighs, her lust for him growing almost as fast she could breathe.

“Touch me,” she whispered, the demand apparent.

He reacted, his hands sliding up her bare thighs, the heat of his hands meeting the skin he could only imagine touching in his wildest dreams. Her thighs were toned and full, planted firmly on either side of him. His fingers dug into the skin of her hips, pulling her down on him, grinding her hips with his. She let out a small moan, a noise he’d only ever fantasize about, as his erection pressed into her. Her dress hid his hands, but she knew the pressure of his fingers would leave bruises.

Their lips had yet to meet, but their bodies were becoming well acquainted. His fingers slipped up her thighs, past the thin material of her barely there thong, up her back and around her chest, finding her breast only covered by the soft material of her dress. She gasped as his hands cupped her, softly kneading the supple flesh with his long fingers, his eyes never leaving her face.

His hands found their way beneath her dress, up her arms, and around her neck, pulling her chest flush to his. She was barely breathing at this point, desire burning deep within her, fear creeping out slowly. His lips brushed hers and she felt her thighs quiver, tightening around his waist. His kisses were slow, deliberate. He tasted of whiskey and mint, his tongue invading her mouth fervently, hungry to taste all of her. His large hands cupped her head, pulling her as close as possible, air not an option. She planted her hands firmly on his shoulders, steadying herself, almost positive she would pass out if she opened her eyes.

His fingers found the hemline of her dress as their lips worked closely, pushing it up around her waist, exposing the long legs he’d dreamt of having wrapped around him. Her head was spinning as his hands roamed up her waist, pulling her dress along with it, sliding it off of her body within seconds. He pulled her close again, his lips now roaming her bare flesh, nipping and kissing the skin of her shoulders, the hollow of her collar bones. He let out a shaky breath, his fingers ghosting down her sides, intertwining with the flimsy lace separating her from him. Pushing his shirt down his arms, she rid him of the confining material, discarding it on the floor beside her dress.

Her mind was swimming as she panicked at the thought. _How did this happen? Where did this confidence come from?_ She blamed it on the whiskey, her thoughts hazy as his hands roamed down her back, cupping the soft curve of her bum and pushing her closer to him, the tent in his pants giving way to some friction. Gliding her fingers down the grove of his abs, she nervously fiddled with the button on his trousers, her hands shaky.

She giggled quietly, “sorry,” she mumbled, his hands coming between them and popping the button.

"Are you nervous?" He rasped against her throat as he sucked on her hot skin.

"Just a little," she admitted, her hands sliding between the material of his trousers, stroking his length.

"So am I," he answered, pulling away from her.

With his hands in her hair, he searched her face for any sign of regret. On his lap, sat his best friend’s little sister; 23, gorgeous, and totally off limits. He’d be a liar of all sorts if he said he never imagined a meeting of theirs playing out this way. The last time he saw her was at her brother’s wedding, dolled up and let down, her now ex boyfriend leaving her stag at the last moment. He wanted nothing more than to make her smile that night, making a fool of himself in hopes of hearing her laugh.

His lips on hers once more, he laid her down on the cool leather couch, her legs loosely wrapped around his waist. The weight of his body on hers was almost heavenly, the feeling of his muscles against her flesh intoxicating. He smelled of cigarette smoke and cologne, a scent she’d love to have linger on her skin. His subtle scruff prickled gooseflesh down her spine, the momentary thought of that feeling between her thighs driving her wild.

Leaving wet kisses down her chest, his tongue circled a pert nipple, sucking the hardened nub between his lips, his teeth raking over the sensitive flesh. She’d sworn she heard herself scream, the feeling both alarming and exquisite. He repeated the motion, once, twice, and continued down her navel. His teeth sunk into the flesh of her hips, leaving little bite marks up and down her thighs, his warm breath hovering over the dampness of her panties.

"Fuck," he cursed, inhaling the scent of her. Nearly embarrassed, she shut her eyes tightly, the tip of his index finger teasingly gliding down the soaking material, circling her entrance then disappearing. She whined, a sound deep in her throat that surprised them both. Never in a million years did he think he could elicit such a reaction from her. 

Pawing at his trousers, she desperately tried to rid him of the restraints between them. The feeling of his naked skin against hers was something for the charts. The flexing of his muscles against the puddle of jelly she had managed to turn into was something she’d want to remember forever, just in case this night would never happen again.

"I need to feel you," she almost whispered, her voice low in the darkness of her apartment.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, ridding his mind of any ill thought, his cock sliding against her wet folds. If this is the furthest she’d let him go, it was enough for him. He’d die a happy man knowing the sounds that escaped her beautiful mouth were because of and for him. When did he become so sentimental?

"Chris," she urged, her fingers curling around his length, "please."

The sound of his name falling from her tongue drove him wild. Her big green eyes watched his face as he aligned himself with her entrance, her arousal mixing with his, coating him as he slipped inside her slowly. She bit her lip, anticipating the sting and pain everyone always complained about, her body tense. Inch by inch, she felt her chest constrict, her nails digging into his shoulders. Once fully seethed within her, she let out a deep breath.

"Relax," he murmured against her neck, kissing her lightly, "I won’t hurt you."

"I know," she stuttered, his hips rocking against hers.

His pace was slow at first, languid. The sensation of him buried inside of her enough to almost make her lose it. She focused on the feel of him; stretching her, filling her. The pain was nonexistent compared to the pleasure she was feeling. With slow thrusts, he filled her to the hilt, stroking her soft spot over and over. She sighed against his lips as he kissed her, his pace speeding up, skin clapping skin. He held her down by her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh.

"Chris," she rasped against his ear, his chest flush with hers as he dove in to her. _In and out and in and out_.

"Fuck," he groaned, nipping at her neck, "you’re so wet."

The streams of _fuck, right there, harder, oh Chris_ , that left her mouth were enough to drive him to the edge, an erotic chant he’d love to hear again. His thrusts became erratic, her moaning and groaning became louder. She withered beneath him, trying to match his movements with hers, her head thrown back and her eyes shut as she panted. 

"Just like that," he coaxed, his thumb finding her nub and stroking lazy circles, "come for me."

With skillful handiwork, he felt her burst beneath him. A repressed moan left her throat as ecstasy washed over her. Her back arched, her breathing labored, white noise taking over her. Following suit a few short thrust behind her, she felt him spill into her, the way he cursed and moaned her name making it just a bit sweeter. He stilled within her, his head sagging on her chest as they both came down from an unexplainable high.


End file.
